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The initial contact had either been seduction or force. After that, threats of exposure would have kept her in line. But it would explain why Northrup had married her.
    This way lay madness. The past could not be changed. And he could not have known her as well as he thought. Her unwillingness to come to him for help belied the friendship he had thought they’d shared. She should have known he would protect her.
    She had fallen silent and was looking at him in puzzlement.
    “I will call on your husband tomorrow,” he said to cover his inattention.
    “You will find him in the churchyard. He died a year ago.”
    “What? He cannot have been more than fifty.”
    “Dear Lord.” She backed her horse a pace, her stare making him squirm. “Did you actually believe I had married Frederick’s father?”
    “What was I to think when you introduced yourself as Lady Northrup?”
    A sigh accompanied a rueful shake of her head. “I forgot you would not know about his death.”
    “You married Frederick?”
    She nodded.
    “Why? He was at least two years your junior.” The question slipped out without thought, and he nearly kicked himself in disgust.
    “My reasons are my own, my lord,” she said coldly.
    “Forgive me,” he begged, unwilling to endure the shadows in her eyes. “That was intolerably rude. You say he passed away last year?”
    “He fell into the quarry.” She shrugged. “Justin is now the baron. I hope you and your friends will join us to welcome him home. Five years in India will have made him a stranger.”
    Turning away, she cantered in the direction of Northfield, leaving his mind a swirl of uncertainty. If five years abroad made Justin a stranger, what had a ten-year absence done to him? And why the devil had Mary wed a schoolboy?
    But watching her disappear around a corner distracted his thoughts. Her horsemanship had improved immeasurably. As had everything else. The straight back flared into alluring hips that set his blood to boiling. He hadn’t seen anyone that enticing in years.
     * * * *
    Mary changed out of her habit without summoning her maid. She needed time to put the morning in perspective.
    James.
    He had changed considerably since she had last seen him, but she could not decide if that was an improvement.
    The greatest difference was his demeanor. In memory, he was always smiling, his enthusiasm contagious, his heart as big as the world. He had been a gentle dreamer dedicated to healing the ills of the world. Despite the height that should have overwhelmed those nearby, he had never intimidated her. It distinguished him from John – whose arrogance and incipient brutality cowed nearly everyone and made people forget that he and James were identical twins.
    She shivered.
    The dreamer was gone, vanquished as if he had never been. That was why she had thought for one instant that it was John she faced. In his years away, James had shed his gentle nature and now exuded a masculinity that took her breath away and left funny, prickly feelings crawling over her skin. She would have to stay clear of him, for he had become dangerous – perhaps even as dangerous as John.
    There had never been a question about John’s character. He had been arrogant from the moment he understood that he was Ridgeway’s heir. His temperament had ranged from disdain to anger to an obsequious charm that made her skin crawl. He had expected instant service from his staff, instant gratification of any whim, and subservience from anyone he considered socially inferior. And he had never once lifted a finger for any of them. In fact, he had often gone out of his way to hurt people.
    As children, the twins had been a study in contrasts. John was demanding; James, introspective. John dominated any gathering; James melted into the background. John took what he wanted; James gave what he could. John paid back any slight tenfold; James forgave even blatant insults. Despite attending different schools, their years away had